A Thin Line 'Tween Love Abuse; Child Abuse, That Is...

I agree. I am very reluctant to make such an approach. I don't think dementia is the issue.

I think it's ethos.

I think what my eyes sees as abuse might actually be something else. I was going to write a long spiel about child rearing and class, but cutting to the chase I think that there might be a relationship between the degree of autonomy acculturated in a child, and socio-economic standing. One of the things wealthier people afford to give to their children is a large sense of self; I would even go as far on the limb as to say a sense of entitlement. Poorer people tend not to do this, unless they are self aware. It's my opinion that a child's rhetorical 'why' and 'why can't I' is important to exploring the world. I think this is what was given to me, thankfully, by those who raised me. I don't think enough children in this neighborhood are afforded that. Screaming at a child bespeaks a certain perception of the child, I think. It also shapes the young soul, unfortunately. I hear the grandmother AND the great-grandmother SCREAMING at these little kids; I hear the grandmother SCREAMING at her son too, who is the father of these kids. One would think there's an ensuing traffic accident or something. The fruit falls from the tree, but hasn't rolled far from beneath it, unfortunately.

No doubt they are both depressed and angst-ridden, Independent Mind. I think both characteristics are part and parcelled elements of existing in poverty, and ignorance; which is why it's hard to think about making the lives of no doubt miserable people even moreso with my bourgeois sensibility.

On another occasion I had a near bloody conflict with a kid who threw bottles in the street for the fun of it. This boy, not half my age, told me to take, and I quote, 'my bitch ass back to my apartment'. I was enraged. As fate would have it, he also lives in a neighboring building; his mother does some sort of menial work and makes her way home late at night. She's overweight, smokes heavily, and speaks LOUDLY. That very night I heard her cursing this kid so horribly; it made sense to me why he would then curse me.

My naivete' made me laugh at myself. I presumed that like me, this kid was rational, and like me could take a constructive critique, but such is not the real world. Recall the contempt in the great movie (and book -- haven't read it yet though) Dr. Zhivago that the common man -- the comrades -- had for Dr. Zhivago once he returned to St. Petersburg? It's also seen in Barton Fink where Mr. Fink is rewarded with contempt when he tries to engage the 'common man' and commiserate alongside them.

There is a certain perspective that these kids have to have if they are to live in the world they inhabit. Self regard is something you gain through assertion and probably taking it away from someone else -- in that world -- is my guess. It's not given to you like an 'inalienable right'....

I will stop there, for now.

I don't think they are the type to take the train all the way to Harlem to learn how to raise children correctly.

Weirdly, I've never heard the father say or do a harsh thing to these children, only his mother and grandmother have the harsh words and make the non-tacit threats. Have you ever screamed so loud that you feel your throat go raw? That's the tone taken to these kids. It's a different world. A wholly different world.

It's my sense that they are being raised in a 'class appropriate' way. These are children who are being socialized to have interactions with children much like themselves. Here's an anecdote that will better explain what I mean. Once a few years back, Ironically not too far from The Children's Zone in Harlem, I witnessed two adult men and a little boy walking eastward on 126th (or 127th) Street towards 5th Avenue. They had a basketball and they all took turns throwing it into the waiting hands of each other. The little boy was no more than 6, and one of the adults passed the ball to him with too much momentum behind it. The ball went beyond the kid's waiting hands and hit him smack in the face, like punch. His head snapped back and he screamed.

"What're you cryin' 'bout?! Why you cryin' like some lil' bitch?! You want me give you somethin' to cry about?!"

Tears popped out this child's head like rain, and he clenched his lower lip to the top to physically mute the pain. A moan seemed to resonate outward from him, and he was trembling. The yelling man stooped down in front of the kid, inches away:

"When these otha niggas start fuckin' wit' you, this is how you gonna handle yo-self? Like a little bitch?! Stop yo cryin you lil' bitch-ass nigga."

He yanked the kid's arm and they kept walking. The other guy who threw the ball started to apologize, and the yelling man, presumably his father, shrugged it off with an 'it ain't no thang.' He was more offended at the kid's reaction than the negligence that caused it. I was mortified, and in an alternate universe I know that there is another semblance of that context where the father gets down on bended knee and consoles the boy, and regards his pain instead of belittling the child's reaction to pain.

But the father also makes a point. In his world, there is little room for grievances. There is little importance given to those who emote over wrongdoing and those who ask forgiveness for it.

Who am I to impose my sensibilities? As much as it is an affront, unless I see obvious harm, maybe it's best I keep my opinions to myself, whether they be explicit or via an anonymous call.

I agree with you Tsarina, that is not the way I would want to raise my children, but put yourself in this father's shoes. Maybe the environment this kid is raised in warrants that such a stance be taken. It's not about right or wrong, it's about pragmatism, and what will ensure safety. Today I saw the father and his daughter, as well as his girlfriend and her daughter sitting on nearby building steps. Two feet behind them fetid garbage spilled out of containers, and flies zipped about. The children played right there. I felt like I was in an underdeveloped country. And EVERYTHING about that situation is a result of ethos. It's a result of people CHOOSING to live that way. As much as I am a student of history, and I take a sympathetic view, it drained me. The bottom line is that there are people who think there is nothing wrong with living beside exposed garbage, and it's okay for their children to play beside exposed garbage. Fetid garbage. Unbelievable.